Setting a Precedent 2: Keeping the Rhythm Going
by Syntyche
Summary: Some records are better left unbroken ...
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Setting A Precedent 2: Keeping the Rhythm Going

**Author**: Syntyche

**Archive**: In the highly unlikely scenario that someone would actually want to archive this, ask me, please. Just so I know where it's going.

**Rating**: PG for one or two not-too-nasty words

**Disclaimer**: Star Wars = George Lucas. Not me. I wouldn't have a prayer of making any money off this anyway.

**Timeline**: Obi's 22.

**Obi-torture with resultant Qui-angst**: Mild

**Qui-torture with resultant Obi-angst**: Also mild. Really more ridiculous than anything.

**Summary**: Some records are better off left unbroken .

**Author's Dedication**: Though she deserves (much, much) better, I am dedicating this - without her knowledge - to Obi the Kid, whose humor fic causes spontaneous giggle fits, and usually at times when I'm supposed to be somewhat serious.

**Also: **This story is obviously a sequel to 'Setting A Precedent,' so it kind of helps to read that one first. Just so you get some of the jokes. Well, uh, one of them, to be precise.

**Alsox2:** it's **really**, **really** cheesy. It's been sitting on my hard drive since 'Setting A Precedent' was finished, I just never posted it because of the cheesiness factor. On the other hand, I've noticed that both of the stories I'm working on, as well the next two lined up to post after 'Loyalty' and the TPM Rewrite, all contain fair amounts of Obi and Qui angst and injury. So, to even it out a little, I'm going to post this fine and tacky piece of work. Two things to remember - 1. cheese. 2. suspension of disbelief. That's why the sections are nice and short.

Setting A Precedent 2: Keeping the Rhythm Going

By: Syntyche

Obi-Wan Kenobi returned to awareness somewhat warily, as if he knew this place called consciousness consisted mainly of being poked and prodded and stuck with very long needles in more places than he cared to think about.

He was certain that his head was tightly sandwiched within a crate of sweaty workout socks, and he ran his tongue ran across his teeth gently, trying to dispel the feeling that he'd been sucking on spider webs. His eyes didn't want to open, but he made them, just a tiny bit, in case there happened to be more over-enthusiastic nurses with needles lurking about in the dark corners of the room. He'd had a bit too much - Obi-Wan grimaced, both at the cheesiness of the pun as well as the truth of it - _**exposure**_ to them lately.

There were no nurses in his immediate line of vision, and Obi-Wan sighed in relief. He'd been given entirely too many sponge baths during his brief stay in the Athzanian medcenter and his fingertips and toes he was certain would be permanently shriveled.

He was groggy and he was in pain, but happily, Obi-Wan didn't care. He was being discharged - today - and he was ready to go. With a profound sense of relief, Obi-Wan looked expectantly near the side of the bed, where he knew the loyal presence of his faithful Master would be anxiously waiting for his wounded Padawan to awaken and reassure him that he was fine and healed and ready to leave. They could leave this horrid, backwater medcenter with its overeager nurses and lunatic Healers and incur other injuries on more sophisticated planets.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to gently wake his loyal Master, and received quite a shock:

The chair beside the bed was empty.

Completely and absolutely empty. No sleeping Master keeping a devoted vigil over his injured Padawan, ready to stroke his hand or hair or bring him water for his parched and raspy throat. No relieved "good morning, sleepyhead," for the wounded apprentice, or even a look of wry sympathy that said, "Obi-Wan, you're at the Healers far too much, but you're finally being discharged . again."

No cheery tug on his braid.

No warm hug of congratulations!-you're- back-in-the-land-of-the-living-Obi-Wan!!

No one to discuss this most recent cause for angst with.

Nothing.

Nada.

Zip.

Obi-Wan was disappointed, to say the least.

"Well, **_fine_**," he muttered aloud, folding his arms over his chest somewhat crossly and wondering just exactly what the hell he was supposed to do now.

Just when he needed a good, encouraging braid-tugging, too.

Fortunately, the once again recovering Padawan didn't have to wonder long. His errant Master, the venerable, greatest-swordsman-in-the-Jedi-Order Qui- Gon Jinn, came strolling through the door a few moments later, munching contentedly on a chocolate bar.

"Sorry," Qui-Gon said apologetically around a mouthful of chocolate.

Obi-Wan shrugged nonchalantly; it would be undignified and un-Jedi-like to sulk. "It's okay."

"Chocolate?" Qui-Gon offered, breaking a square off the end of his bar and presenting it to the reclining Padawan.

"For breakfast?" Obi-Wan asked with a raised eyebrow.

Qui-Gon nodded patronizingly in a way that suggested he equated Obi-Wan's question along the same lines as his Padawan suddenly asking him if he'd sprouted a new head and a few more arms to join it. Obi-Wan shrugged again.

"Love some."

Obi-Wan accepted the piece and munched on it thoughtfully. Then, "How long till I'm out?" he asked as he sucked the gooey chocolate off each fingertip.

"Sit up, Obi-Wan, or you'll choke," Qui-Gon reprimanded, snatching a pillow from a nearby bed and tucking it behind his apprentice. Obi-Wan winced as his bandaged ribs were jostled and settled himself back against the pillows carefully. "As soon as I sign the release forms, if you can manage to leave the premises without further injuring yourself," he said in answer to Obi- Wan's question.

"Yes!" Obi-Wan rejoiced jubilantly, thrusting a fist in the air in a gesture of triumph. "Free again! This place gives me the creeps.," he confided in an undertone, casting his eyes around the room nervously. "I have a bad feeling about it."

"Obi-Wan, everything gives you a bad feeling," Qui-Gon remarked dryly with a longsuffering smile. "I think we should look into special sessions with the mind healers to figure out where these 'bad feelings' are coming from," he added.

Obi-Wan shot his Master a dour look. "I'm serious. These people are way too excited about their technology - even if it is ages behind the times."

At that, Qui-Gon had to agree. The Athzanians were a bit ... excitable about their newly improved medical technology, and while Qui-Gon was supremely grateful for the updated machinery - it had saved Obi-Wan's life after all - the Athzanians were making him a bit uneasy with both their excitement about their equipment and their obvious inexperience in using it. It was an odd thing, Qui-Gon mused, when a culture's technology was more advanced than the people who utilized it.

"I have to say, though," Obi-Wan continued after a thoughtful pause, tapping his cleft chin reflectively, "this place is far better than the Healers' on Dantooine. Not as nice as the bigger Corellian medcenters we've been to, though."

"I'm glad you're such an expert," Qui-Gon teased sardonically. Dantooine had been pretty bad, though. Qui-Gon absently brushed his sticky fingers on his tan tunics, leaving a slight chocolate smudge near the hem.

"Well, Master, you did say I speak from experience," Obi-Wan reminded his venerable Master. "Experience which I am certainly ready to forgo - and I do not wish to remain here one second longer."

The young Padawan started to sweep the light blanket aside but at an eyebrow raised pointedly by his Master, Obi-Wan quickly yanked the blanket back over his legs, a crimson flush making its way up his neck. "I always forget," he muttered. "I hate these sithly things." His fingers went to the back of his collar and he tugged on the strings of the medcenter gown.

Qui-Gon grinned at him, placing his Padawan's neatly folded clothing at the foot of the bed. "I know, Padawan. I'll be just outside keeping the females at bay while you change," he volunteered helpfully.

"You're a real hero, Master," Obi-Wan muttered darkly, annoyed by his Master's teasing. It wasn't **_his_** fault about the nurses, anyhow. He fingered his tunics absently, noting a familiar weight was missing. "Got my rock?"

Qui-Gon nodded, tapping his tunic over his chest to indicate said rock was safely stored in his breast pocket. "Yes, Padawan. I'll be outside when you're ready."

After his Master had left the room, Obi-Wan leapt from the bed, immensely pleased to be released yet again. Jerking the gown over his head, he tossed it to the floor with a shudder and carefully slipped into his clothing, mindful of the tape - tape! for Force's sake! - binding his ribs firmly into place. He commed the Healers and let them know he was ready to go and perched on the edge of the bed to pull his boots on.

"Padawan? Padawan, are you ready??"

Qui-Gon reentered, though somewhat slower than he'd left. His semi-faithful vigil over his Padawan's bedside had left him tired, and he'd not been able to find a single tea dispenser in the entire building. He was becoming somewhat bleary as his chocolate-induced adrenaline spike wore off. Consequently, the tall Jedi Master paid less attention to his surroundings as he was normally wont to do; he tripped on Obi-Wan's hastily discarded med gown and the thin material tangled in his boots and threw him off- balance.

"Master!"

Startled, Obi-Wan hopped off the bed and reached out to grab Qui-Gon as he stumbled, but the Padawan had overestimated his own lingering weakness and the sheer largeness of the older Jedi. Obi-Wan's legs gave out under the sudden weight of his Master and he collapsed to the floor with a grunt, his arms cradling Qui-Gon. His strength wasn't sufficient to keep his Master's head from striking the floor with a dull thud, and Obi-Wan groaned as his Master slumped into unconsciousness.

"Master? Qui-Gon?? Come on, Master," he said worriedly, slapping Qui-Gon's face gently, "wakey-wakey, come on, Master, you didn't hit that hard ... come on ... "

And at that instant, Obi-Wan's excitable and paranoid Healer walked in.

"Master Jinn! Oh, Master Jinn!" The Healer was in an instant panic at the sight of the unconscious Jedi on floor being supported by his concerned apprentice. "I told you that chocolate for breakfast was very, very bad for you! And those nasty, greasy beefcakes for dinner! It's probably his heart!"

"No, wait - " Obi-Wan began, holding out a hand frantically to stop the Healer, but the doctor had already slapped the intercom button and was calling for assistance. "It's all right - " Obi-Wan leaned forward urgently, but Qui-Gon jerked unexpectedly at the movement and his forehead impacted with Obi-Wan's still-healing ribs. Obi-Wan's plea choked off with a moan as his breath rushed from his body, and unfortunately this directed the Healer's professional attention back onto him.

"And **_you_**, Padawan Kenobi! We'll need to see about your ribs again!" The man was trying to speak calmly, but Obi-Wan could see excitement in his eyes and the nervous energy that engulfed his movements._ Can't wait to use his new toys again_, Obi-Wan thought vaguely, with a pained sigh, but he couldn't speak past the fresh throbbing in his ribs. _Please, Master_, he thought, jostling Qui-Gon as much as he was able, _now would be quite a good time to wake up...  
_  
But his Master didn't awaken, and the Healers had lifted Qui-Gon onto a stretcher and were out the door practically before Obi-Wan had time to blink. Black spots were dancing in his vision and Obi-Wan struggled to rise and explain the misunderstanding, but word was out that **_Kenobi Needed Treatment!!_** and a nurse had already entered with a hypo topped with a needle the size of Obi-Wan's index finger. Obi-Wan's head was still spinning from the pain of his ribs and he didn't have the strength to fight her off as she gripped his wrist. _I need to get to Qui-Gon! I need to get to Qui-Gon!_ His last conscious thought as she jabbed the hypo home was, _Oh Force, please not another sponge bath...  
_


	2. Chapter 2

I wasn't sure about continuing with this story, but I have so many plot bunnies bouncing around in my head that would just be out of place in a depressing story, so I sort of feel like they should be sent off on their own, with a gentle pat and a bouquet of good wishes.

_Sniff._ so go on, little guy. For Obi…

* * *

Setting A Precedent 2: Keeping the Rhythm Going

By: Syntyche

For the second time that day, the chair beside the bed was empty.

Obi-Wan blinked dully against the brightness of the overhead lights as he slowly opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings. That last bit of unneeded medication was making him feel thickheaded and heavy, and although he realized that there was something important he should be remembering, it was quite elusive to his jumbled mental processes as to what exactly that something important was.

Obi-Wan reflected on Qui-Gon's empty chair. It was too bad that Qui-Gon wasn't where he was supposed to be, because Qui-Gon would know. Obi-Wan's Master knew everything, so he would be certain to know what it was that Obi-Wan was supposed to be remembering.

_Wait a minute. Hold that thought._

Obi-Wan backed up slowly and thought very carefully. Qui-Gon wasn't here. Where was he? Obi-Wan contemplated hard, his brow furrowed, and suddenly came up with the answer: the Healers. The Healers had taken Qui-Gon away. So maybe if Obi-Wan found the Healers, they could tell him where Qui-Gon was, and Qui-Gon could tell him what he was supposed to be remembering.

It wasn't much of a plan, but it would have to do, Obi-Wan decided, muzzily pleased by his chain of logic thus far.

One of the Healers entered his room and Obi-Wan was inexorably cheered. It made his plan so much easier if the Healers came right to him! Now he could ask about Master Qui-Gon.

The Healer moved to Obi-Wan's bedside and placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder consolingly.

"Padawan Kenobi, I'm afraid we'll have to operate on Master Jinn," he said softly, obviously striving to reassure the groggy apprentice. "He has severe artery blockage that must be taken care of immediately."

_Huh_? Obi-Wan blinked a few more times and wished that Qui-Gon was here to translate for him. He was having a hard time concentrating.

"Wha…?" he managed. "Qui-Gon?"

"I have the x-rays right here," the Healer confirmed, and even in Obi-Wan's drug-induced fog he could sense the excitement from the man. "See?"

A few sheets of flimsy were waved under Obi-Wan's nose, and Obi-Wan squinted hard to make out the image. Yes, that was his Master all right. At least, he supposed it was. It was vaguely Master-shaped, but the flimsies were kind of grainy. Or maybe that was his vision.

"Here's the blockage," the Healer added, and he pointed to a splotch near what Obi-Wan presumed was how his Master's heart appeared on the x-rays. There was something familiar about the shape of that splotch, but Obi-Wan couldn't remember what it was, exactly. Maybe Qui-Gon would know that, too, what it reminded Obi-Wan of. He was coming up with a lot of questions to ask his Master when he found him.

"Okay," he agreed. It wasn't like he could tell what he was looking at anyway.

"Good." The Healer was pleased. "And you still need a little attention as well, I see. Not to worry. I'll send for Leyeta. A new bit of tape about those ribs and a sponge bath, and you'll be as good as new."

* * *

Obi-Wan was staring at the ceiling, thinking very hard. Something was bothering him, but the medication was still too thick in his system for him to figure it out properly. Something about that shape … something about that shape and the fact that he was sure that Master Qui-Gon had been in perfect health before they'd left on this mission. If only he could think of what it was he was trying to think of …

Obi-Wan sat up with a startled gasp.

_His rock!_

_**That's**_ what he'd been trying to remember! _**That**_ was the funny-looking splotch on Qui-Gon's x-ray!

Oh.

Uh-oh.

_Well_, Obi-Wan was quick to reason with himself, surely the doctors would realize that Qui-Gon did not, in fact, have severe artery blockage, but was for a time merely keeping safe his Padawan's thirteenth birthday present which was a rock and not artery blockage, and the surgery would be halted. Of course they would see that.

Wouldn't they?

Obi-Wan surveyed his current predicament, hazily remembered what had transpired earlier, and immediately doubt set in and he wasn't so sure.

He had to find Qui-Gon.

He tossed back the bedsheet and was immediately assaulted by a rush of cold air on his bare legs that made him gasp. He managed to bite back a startled curse, though, and grimly wound the sheet around his waist, snatching up the long end that trailed on the floor and clutching it firmly as he eyed the too-short medcenter gown disdainfully. They'd taken his real clothes again, and left him with this bedamned _tissue paper_ gown in which to wander the halls with. Sith.

A quick glance about the room showed that his Jedi clothing was completely missing, as well as his boots. Obi-Wan's nose wrinkled as he surveyed his bare toes, but his master was in a bit of peril and now was not the time to worry about having cold feet.

_Har, har, _Obi-Wan smiled muzzily at his bad pun as he took a few wobbly steps toward the door. The room dipped and spun but soon righted, and with the edge of his bedsheet tailing behind him, Obi-Wan set off to find his Master.

A cautious glance in the corridor showed the hallway was empty, and Obi-Wan wandered down the halls, trying hard to remember where the surgical rooms were. His mind was still fuzzy however, and no matter how hard he tried, he was too blurred mentally to use the Force. Obi-Wan hopelessly turned another corner, and when he failed to recognize anything familiar, nearly sank to his knees in tired despair before he noticed a lighted wall panel that was just level with his face. Three words and a symbol immediately jumped out at his foggy mind:

YOU ARE HERE: X.

Obi-Wan could have sobbed in relief.

He'd just managed to get a picture in his mind of where the surgical rooms were located when a door at the end of the hallway hissed open. Obi-Wan darted into the nearest open doorway, immediately sighing in relief when it turned out to be merely a closet. As quietly as possible, Obi-Wan burrowed behind the rack of clothing hanging neatly at the back of the tiny enclosure. He listened as the footsteps grew louder until they passed his open doorway and then faded. Obi-Wan was about to escape from the closet when, as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he realized that the clothing on the rack was actually a row of green surgical scrubs.

Obi-Wan smiled.

A few minutes later, the sithly medcenter gown and bed sheet were wadded into a corner of the closet, and Obi-Wan Kenobi emerged, looking freshly medical and impeccably stylish in his new green scrubs.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, so new chaps for the Rewrite and NA are almost up, but sometimes plot bunnies run rampant and if I don't get them out, they clutter up the other storylines.

I'm not proud of this, but it's been a hell of a week and it amused me to write, so here it is. I'm not gonna recap, so reread the previous chapters at your own risk. It also references the original Setting a Precedent quite a bit, so again, at your own risk, though admittedly a lot of the chap doesn't make sense without the background. Or maybe it doesn't even with the background. Shrug. Like I said, just working the plot bunnies out.

* * *

Setting a Precedent 2: Keeping the Rhythm Going

Chapter Three

(Yeah, I can't believe it has three _chapters,_ either. Good grief.)

~*~*~*~*~*~

Calling to memory the picture he'd seen of the medcenter layout, Obi-Wan made his way to the nearest lift. Once inside, he pushed the button for the appropriate floor and leaned against the wall with a grimace. Now that the haze from the medication was fading, the pain in his ribs was trying to remind him that he wasn't fully healed yet. He drew a deep breath and centered himself calmly. First he would need to dispel the remainder of the medication from his mind; then he could work on his ribs.

He'd just managed to clear all the cobwebs from his head when the lift bumped to a halt. Obi-Wan winced and pressed a shaking hand to painful ribs, drawing himself up carefully. He'd have to work on them later; Qui-Gon needed rescuing from an unnecessary surgery that probably wasn't going to end well.

_Blend,_ he tried to encourage himself enthusiastically, straightening his borrowed green scrubs carefully as he maneuvered through the rushing people toward the surgical bay.

The air here was tense with excitement, and Obi-Wan suppressed a sigh at the sight of obviously ecstatic doctors and nurses pushing loaded carts from room to room. _Way too excited about their new toys, _he thought tiredly.

With a little help from his memory and a lot of help from the Force, Obi-Wan managed to find the prep room where his Master was sequestered. Obi-Wan knew that very shortly his escape would be discovered, so he hurried to the bed where Qui-Gon lay. As he approached, he could hear the nonsensical words spilling from Qui-Gon and his forehead scrunched in confusion.

"Put my hands up … playing my song … moving my hips … like yeah …" The Jedi Master followed his approach hazily, with only the faintest gleam of recognition in his glassy midnight-blue eyes. "Obi-Wan?"

"Master? Master, I'm sorry about the mistake," Obi-Wan said hastily. "I'm going to get you out of here, okay?"

The Padawan swiftly scanned the various pieces of equipment, noticing especially the vitals monitor and the intravenous leads that were pumping who knew what into Qui-Gon's bloodstream. Grimacing, he set to work detaching cables at random and waiting for a second to watch for changes in the monitors. Probably not the best way to go about unhooking his Master, but, Obi-Wan was modest enough to admit, wearing scrubs didn't really make him a Healer any more than posing that one time for the "Padawans of the Year" calendar made him a model.

"Obi-Wan?"

"Hmm?" Obi-wan watched carefully as he pulled a lead from the machine. A light on the monitor started blinking a frantic red. Quickly he reattached the lead. "Yes, Master?"

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said muzzily, reaching out and snagging the apprentice's hand as the young man worked haphazardly on the monitors by the bedside. "Obi-Wan,"

"Yes, Master?" Obi-Wan repeated, his attention focused on his work.

"Sithly Strawberry is right for you."

Obi-Wan wasn't sure he'd heard correctly; it could have just been the roaring in his ears. He actually glanced over at his Master, confused. "What??"

"Sithly Strawberry," Qui-Gon elaborated. "For your toes."

Obi-Wan glanced down at his bare toes. There hadn't been any boots in the closet. Strawberry what? The medication must have really scrambled his Master's brain.

"Okay, Master, whatever." He tried to sound enthusiastic about whatever his Master was so sure of, but he knew he sounded even less excited than the time Qui-Gon had tried to take him … 'fishing,' whatever the hell the point of that was. Bait the hook, catch the fish, throw the fish back. Obi-Wan simply couldn't see the appeal of it or how one could possibly 'win' at 'fishing.'

"For the party," Qui-Gon insisted hazily, interrupting Obi-Wan's wandering musing. "Because it's a fun thing to do, Pada—Pada ... Obi-Wan. Evacuate the dance floor!" he added, happily off-key.

Obi-Wan worked faster, searching frantically for the drip for his overmedicated Master. "Okay, Master. Just as you say. Just let me take this drip out, okay?"

Qui-Gon smiled, pleased to have dispensed yet another bit of wisdom to his Padawan. "Good. Because we don't have enough fun," he stressed, the seriousness in his gaze undermined by the sheer glassiness of his dark blue eyes. "Too much angst."

"Yes, well … " Obi-Wan tried to think of an appropriate answer, but in the end was speechless. It was true; they certainly had a good deal of angst in their lives.

"Sith happens," he said philosophically.

Qui-Gon smiled. "You're a good Padawan. So bright, eager. Ready to learn. Not like my _**last**_ Padawan."

Obi-Wan grinned gently, disconnecting the last monitor. "I think the time for talking about that is long past, Master."

"You're right," Qui-Gon agreed, nodding with sluggish earnestness. "Am never gonna abandon you … Ani."

Obi-Wan frowned.


End file.
